The Case of the Expert's Analysis
by Stutley Constable
Summary: 'You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles.' Sherlock Holmes -The Bascombe Valley Mystery


AN: Recently, I lost a very dear friend who was many things. Near the top of the list, she was a Holmesian. I write this tale as a tribute to Nytd. She is greatly missed.

AN: Several friends helped to create this tribute. Thanks goes to mrspencil, FreedomOftheSeas and ShahbanouScheherazade. This story would not be what it is without you.

**The Case of the Expert's Analysis**

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, accompanied and assisted by Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard, pushed open the double door of the small veterinary practice located not far from the Shadwell Basin of the London docks. Between them, they carried a sizable crate with rope handles fastened at either end. Its contents were covered by a scrap of tarp.

"I told you we should have taken one of the porter's barrows," complained Lestrade through gritted teeth.

"Come, come, Inspector. It isn't _that_ heavy," chided Holmes, as they set the crate on the narrow desk of the unoccupied waiting room.

Holmes had chosen this particular veterinary office partly for its proximity to the docks, but primarily because Mr. Sherman of Pinchin Lane vouched for the skill of Dr. Knight, the veterinary surgeon who had opened this practice some seven months earlier.

Releasing his grip on the rope, Holmes first flexed the fingers of his right hand to work the cramp from them and then tapped lightly on the plunger of the small bell resting next to the neatly penned appointment ledger on the desk. The sound of a door opening somewhere in the back of the establishment was accompanied by the noise of several dogs barking. Footsteps, quick and purposeful, clicked down the hall, and presently, a comely blonde woman in her mid-forties appeared in the hall doorway with a smile of greeting. She was dressed neatly in a practical, well-made dress of dark blue Henrietta.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she said in an accent Lestrade could only place as coming from the United States. "I'm afraid you are quite early. I have only just arrived."

"Good morning, Madam. I am Mr. Sherlock Holmes and this is Inspector Geoffrey Lestrade of Scotland Yard. When is Dr. Knight expected?" Holmes said politely, as he removed his silk top hat. Lestrade glanced at the lady before them and, taking his cue from Holmes, quickly doffed his bowler.

The woman's eyebrows lifted slightly; her smile faded.

"Dr. Knight is here," she said and stepped in behind the desk. "Have you an appointment?"

"No," Holmes told her. "This is a matter of some minor urgency, Madam. Police business of a confidential nature."

The woman's brows rose and her eyes flicked back and forth between the visitors. She asked, "And the nature of your business, Mr. Holmes?"

"As I told you, it is confidential. I would rather speak with the doctor directly." Holmes' manner was cool and self-contained.

She gave him another slight smile, a twinkle in her eye, then held her hands palms up in a sign of acceptance.

"Very well, gentlemen. This way, if you please."

Lestrade and Holmes laid hands to the rope handles of the crate again, hoisted it between them and followed the woman down the narrow hall to a tidy room of glass enclosed cabinets and a large oaken table. She gestured for them to set their burden upon the table and turned towards a second door.

"The doctor will be with you momentarily," she said and exited.

The door had hardly closed before Lestrade admonished his associate, "The doctor's wife was only doing her job, Mr. Holmes."

"Yes," Holmes said unruffled. "What of it?"

"You could have been more polite," said Lestrade.

"I was not rude," snorted Holmes. "Our business should remain close. I have no wish to frighten the doctor's sister and even less desire to have her gossiping about the contents of this crate."

"Sister?" Lestrade asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Sister, Lestrade," Holmes said firmly, wiggling his fingers in the air. "There was no wedding ring and no sign she has ever worn one."

"Sister?" Lestrade bit his lip, considering. "I suppose you're right. Still, you were a little short with her."

Before Holmes could reply, the door opened again and in stepped the blonde woman, now wearing a white smock over her dress and drying her hands with a small towel.

"How may I help?" she asked, smiling.

"My dear woman…" Holmes began a little crossly, and then stopped himself. His eyes narrowed briefly as they took in her appearance again. A chagrined smile spread across his face, and he turned to his companion to see what he was making of it. Lestrade was simply staring at her, slightly perplexed. Holmes raised an inquiring eyebrow at him. Lestrade blinked and said, "What?"

"Inspector, may I introduce you to Dr. Knight?" replied Holmes.

"What?" repeated Lestrade, even more perplexed.

"This lady is the expert we came to see," Holmes explained slowly. He then turned to the veterinarian and bowed very slightly. "I do apologize, Doctor. Women in the medical field, even yours, are rare."

"Don't mention it, Mr. Holmes. I get that quite a lot," she said, with a smile of her own. "Now, what is it that I can do for you and the police?"

"We need you to identify, if you can, what manner of creature this is," Holmes said and threw off the scrap of canvass covering the form in the crate.

Dr. Knight drew back with a slight start. To her credit, she did not gasp nor hesitate long before leaning closer to the dead thing. At first she took it for a scruffy cur, but as her eyes wandered over it, she realized it was nothing of the sort, though it was somewhat larger than a spaniel. It was quite thoroughly dead, and cool to her touch. There was no mystery as to the cause of its death, three bullet holes showed clearly in the creature's side.

"Help me get it out of this box, please," she said almost eagerly, reaching for its hind legs. Holmes grasped the beast about the neck, and they lifted together. Lestrade obliged them by taking the crate from the table and laying it on the floor.

With a brusque, professional air, Dr. Knight went about examining the strange carcass. She took a number of measurements, noting them down on a pad. Her attention lingered on the strangely formed, nearly hairless feet. Using forceps she opened the animal's lips and examined the teeth, before levering the jaws apart to have a look inside its mouth. From its side she pulled several hairs. Placing them on a slide she inspected them through the powerful lens of a brightly polished microscope. She did the same with several drops of its blood. As the veterinarian did so, Holmes looked on with a professional interest and what seemed to Lestrade an approving expression on his lean face.

Dr. Knight straightened from her microscope and turned speculative, disbelieving eyes on the corpse. Those eyes narrowed, and her mouth pursed as if she were about to speak. Instead, she rushed from the room, only to return an instant later with a heavy tome she was rapidly paging through. Setting it down on the counter next to her microscope, she reinserted the slide with the hairs. After looking back and forth several times between the device and an illustration in the book she seemed finally to come to a conclusion.

"Gentlemen," she said a little breathlessly, as she turned to regard the animal again. "I don't know where this creature came from, and I have never seen one of this size, but you quite clearly have a member of the Muroidea family. It is amazing!"

"Muroidea family?" Lestrade asked, pronouncing the word very carefully.

"The family of rodents that includes mice and rats as well as a variety of more exotic species," Holmes explained.

"So this monster is a giant mouse?" stammered Lestrade.

"No, Inspector," Dr. Knight replied, still looking at the animal. "It's more closely related to Rattus Rattus, the common black rat."

Holmes looked meaningfully at his companion, giving him a nod. "Come, Lestrade. There is much yet to do!"

As the men reached for the carcass, Dr. Knight put out a restraining hand.

"Where did it come from, Mr. Holmes?" she asked intently. "And how did it get here?"

Holmes considered for a moment then shook his head. "It originated in Sumatra, but how it came to these shores must remain between Scotland Yard and myself, Doctor. The world is not ready, I think, for that story."


End file.
